


LOST

by DoctorMuggle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Bonding, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Family, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Jealous Klaus Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson Has A Heart, Loneliness, M/M, Parent Klaus Mikaelson, Parenthood, Physical Abuse, Possessive Family, Possessive Klaus Mikaelson, Protective Elijah Mikaelson, Protective Family, Protective Klaus Mikaelson, Protective Rebekah Mikaelson, Protectiveness, Recovered Memories, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-10 22:09:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15301092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorMuggle/pseuds/DoctorMuggle
Summary: This story does not follow the storyline of either series. I took abit out of Harry Potter and mash it up with TO and TVD. Hope you guys like it.A young boy who was abused by his guardians, no memories of his parents, his birth date or even his name. He never complained, not even once because there was a roof over his head(well, sometimes) and food(not often). Nonetheless, he was still grateful. Not even allowed to go out and explore the outside world or even sit in the lounge, he often stayed in his small closet underneath the stairs and memorized the same words from behind the detergent boxes and whatever he seemed to find in that tiny room until he fell asleep.You should just read the story, I cant trust myself not to give out too much spoilers in the summary. It gets better along the way.





	1. ?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing another story at the same time so i cant guarantee that updates will be on time. There will be a short pause for awhile, however i can promise that i will finish this one. Hope you guys be patient with me. Much love

 

For me, I prefer my readers to think of the boy in this figure. Not Daniel Radcliffe, but as young Asa Butterfield. It kinda fit because of his look and his eyes, WOW, his eyes. They are beautiful and also unique. I mean, you can change him to whoever you like lol. No biggie. There are plenty of other options. Here are few suggestions : Logan Lerman,Timothée Chalamet, Troye Sivan. But anywhooo, you can imagine other male characters too :D

 

 

 This is the backyard that the boy slept in, just imagine there's no statue or gazebo and there you have it. Well, the one in my mind was better, more dirt and vegetables but I'm sure you can add some features to it yourself. Just imagine a place that isn't suitable for any child to sleep in. lol

 

For those that haven't watched Harry Potter (shame on you...jk), these are the Dursleys fam. Just imagine them more grim and mad and abusive and all the bad shit stuff, okay. Moving on...

This gorgeous specimen is Niklaus, for those that haven't watched any of TVD or TO series...again shame on you, justtt kidddding.

 

And this other specimen is named Elijah. Yes, sexy indeed. Say thanks to their parents for creating them. Yum... anywhoo, now off to the start of the story.

 

 

 

 

**Beginning**

SPLASH! The sound of water being thrown onto his face. He jolted awake at the sudden heat on his skin.

“Wake up, slave! Make us breakfast now!” The woman yellled, annoyed to see his face. She walked out of the small room, mumbling vulgar words which he were used to hearing every day. “NOW!” She yelled again.

The 5 year old boy stood and head to the kitchen as fast as lightning, not caring that his face felt like melting and blisters forming on his neck, arms and thighs. He will mend to them later when he has the time, he thought. The table was still empty, no plates or utensils yet. The only indication that he didn’t overslept. He prepared everything on the table first and took out eggs, bacon and sausages from the fridge and canned beans from the cupboard. Once the pan was hot, he cracked some eggs and fried bacon on the side. Almost done, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. A fat man with a dirty beard came into the kitchen, sneering at the sight of the thin weak boy and sat on the chair that looked like it would break anytime soon.

“Come on! Faster, will you!” He said, resting a leg up on the other chair.

The boy nodded and brought the food to the table and placed them onto the plate. Heading back to clean up, the man pulled his leg out, causing the boy to trip and fell spilling the still hot oil all over himself. The boy stood up quickly to rush to sink and clean the oil off under cold water but was pulled back by his hair.

“Look, what you’ve done! You ruined the carpet, you little shit!” The man exclaimed, pulling back his other hand to hit the boy’s face. The boy fell to the floor, blood dripping from his mouth, blisters popping.

The woman from earlier came and looked at him on the floor. “First the oil, now blood and puss. You are ruining my expensive carpet!!” She kicked him in the stomach.

The boy kept quiet, not that he wasn’t in pain but he wasn’t allowed to let out a sound not even a squeak or a whimper. He shielded his sides, not wanting to have a rib broken again.

“Go to your room now! No food for a week.” The man said, opening a newspaper.

The woman walked pass the boy that was still on the ground, her heels embedding itself into his sensitive skin as she went to cook the rest of the food.

The boy stood slowly and remembered to bow before leaving the kitchen. He was asked to always bow to them as thought they were gods. He was asked to bow at their friends as well. Of course the boy did as he was told without complains. He was half way at the door of the closet when he was shoved face first into the wall, slicing his right cheek at the gravel wall. He led out a groan.

“Mom! The slave pushed me!” The fat boy lied to his mother.

The woman along with the man came rushing to the scene, the boy on the ground while the fat one hovering beside him. Angry, the woman yelled “Why are you causing so much trouble for us?! For 5 whole years now! We shouldn’t have taken you in. Should have just let you rot.”

The man spat on the boy’s face and went back to the kitchen. Another spit came from the woman. “Clean the mess you’ve made after we leave. Don’t show your disgusting self to any of us or you’ll be sleeping outside tonight.”

With that, the woman and boy went to the kitchen, leaving him still on the ground. The boy nodded slowly, accepting every single words that was thrown at him and went into his little room, closing the door quietly. He sat on the soaked bed that was made out of boxes filled with old worn out clothes. Slowly peeling the hanging skin on his arm, a tear slid down his cheek. Then another. And another. Oh how he wished that he didn’t exist and be a burden to these people that took him in. Hours passed until he heard the front door closed loudly, signaling him that the family went out to work and for him to clean the house. Wishing tomorrow would a good day, less pain less drama. His wish didn’t come true. Until...

 

~~~~

 

2 years passed brutally. Him being a 7 year old boy now, the family didn’t care for the amount of beatings they gave to him. Not that they cared before, however now they forced him to sleep in the back yard more often than before, knowing the boy won’t be weak or die easily. It’s stupid but that’s how their minds work. The boy woke up from the sun shining brightly at his face. He turned his head away from the blinding light and stretched. He actually preferred the yard than the closet as he could stretched his legs till he was satisfied. Sitting up, he pushed the leaves aside and stood, dusting off any dirt. He looked behind him and saw the deep woods. Many times had he thought of running away but where will he go? No one wanted a weak boy that had scars all over his body. He wouldn’t survive in the outside world, that was what they always told him. He would die in an instant. He shook his head and went to the back door towards the kitchen, ready to prepare breakfast and a hell ton of beatings.

The day went by as usual, the woman yelled non stop, the fat man took out his belt and smacked it across the boy’s face for not being fast enough delivering a glass of water to him. And lastly, the spoiled fat boy lied and told them the weak boy broke the vase when it was obvious the fat one was near it while playing with his friends. Not wanting to scold and embarrassed their son, of course they would pick the weak frail boy. Another beating came and it was already night time. No breakfast or dinner as usual. The boy didn’t mind. Water was enough to fill his stomach.

It was almost 10 pm when the fat man suddenly pulled him into the kitchen. The boy knew what was coming. The man had been fidgety for the past few days and would took it out on the boy. The man brought brass knuckles today. That was new, the boy thought. But the pain wasn’t. With one punch, the boy fell to the floor, his mouth and cheek bleeding. He cast his eyes downwards when another hit his other cheek. His face burnt. So much pain. Why? He once thought but threw it away as he now understood it was his destiny to be their slave and punching bag. A kick unexpectedly knocked his chin upwards, throwing him back to the wall hitting his head which was now bleeding. Feeling dizzy, he laid on the floor, blood pouring out of his mouth. A kick this time. Now at his stomach, breaking a rib. Few minutes past, the boy was now unconscious as the man kept rampaging. He went to the sink and cleaned the blood off his brass. He then knelt in front of the boy and yanked the boy by his hair, shaking him until he was awake.

“Clean this up, you little shit. You will sleep outside for the whole month.” The man said, venom in his voice as he dropped the boy’s head back on the floor with a thud. He went upstairs to his room and lay on his cozy cotton bed with his wife snuggling into him.

The boy tried hard not to fall asleep on the floor, biting his tongue to keep him awake. Although, the pain on his body seemed to numbed the pain on his tongue. He then slowly sat up and rested against the wall, whimpering as his rib bone gyrated against each other. He led out a shaky breath and at the count of three stood up as fast as he could. He bit the inside of his mouth as pain came all at once. He took off his shirt and went to the sink to soak it. He learned not to used any of their kitchen cloth to wipe anything. Always used what he was wearing, they said. Throwing the wet shirt down, he used his leg to wipe the floor with it. Wiping every last of his blood he spotted. He crouched down and took his shirt, stumbling towards the back door. Once outside, the boy breathed in the sweet night air, feeling grateful that he survived. He squeezed out the excess blood and water from the shirt and hung it at the drying line. Finally at his resting spot, he sat down and covered himself with leaves, hoping his wounds would healed before tomorrow comes so he could do chores with ease. Tears slid down his eyes as he fell asleep.

A scream woke the boy. He jolted upwards at the terrifying sound, wincing at the pain from his rib. He looked around to find the source. A feminine scream broke out and he turned his head towards the house. He knew who it was from. The sound of thrashing and glass breaking filled the silent night. The injured boy stood up and head towards the door, opening it with haste. He needed to get help, he needed to help them. His eyes widen at the sight of the kitchen. The table was upturned and plates were broken into pieces on the floor. He went to the lounge, slicing his feet as he walked through the shards. It was the same, the sofa was shredded and the chandelier was hanging loosely. Something then caught his eyes from the side, he turned to look and was struck with a gory scene. The fat man was pale with wide eyes. Eyes looking at his direction. And he was so pale. Paler than the boy himself. It looked like there wasn’t an ounce of blood left. He was afraid to go upstairs, afraid of finding out the same fate of the others upstairs, afraid of being alone in this world. Within seconds, he was lifted into the air with a hand around his neck, choking him breathless. The boy looked down to see a man with blonde hair and eyes as blue as the sky, amusement in each of them.

“Who might you be?” The blonde man spoke.

The boy tried to speak but only air came out, not because the man was choking him but just that it had been long since he spoke. His throat was dry and groggy. He swallowed enough saliva to let words out smoothly. “S-slave.”

The blonde man frowned and finally looked at the small weak boy properly. He saw how much his face was bruised and noticed the dry blood at the corner of his mouth and cheeks. He also saw old and new scars all over his body. His frown deepened when his eyes cast on the dark discoloration on the boy’s left rib and at how freakishly thin he was. The moment he looked back up at the boy, he was already passed out. Shocked, the man slowly cradled the boy and set him onto the sofa. He pushed the strands of hair away from his face and noticed a long scar from his forehead to the side of his face. Fury was in the man’s eyes at the sight of this fragile boy. “You didn’t deserved this, sweet child.” The blonde man said, caressing the boy’s head. A man in a suit came from behind the blonde man and to his side, looking at the boy, frowning at the sight.

“Who is this child, Niklaus?” He asked.

Niklaus sighed. “He said he was a slave. I believed he was with the Dursleys, Elijah.” He shook his head.

Elijah was disgusted. “I will find information regarding this boy.” He knelt beside the boy and brushed his fingers along the outline of his stomach. “He seemed to have a broken rib.” He looked around the boy’s body, his lips pursed. “We should have killed them slowly. Let them suffer for what they did to this poor child.”

Niklaus clenched his jaw. “Indeed, brother. For now, the boy's with us” He stood and picked the boy up gently into his arms. He stopped moving when the boy whimpered but slowly snuggled into the man’s warm embrace. Niklaus smiled fondly and looked towards Elijah. Both nodded and sped away, leaving the massacre behind.

 

 

This is brass knuckles if you dont know


	2. Chapter 2

“Klaus” Elijah said to Klaus who was pacing back and forth non stop. “Niklaus!” Elijah yelled.

Klaus stopped, looking at Elijah with worry in his eyes. “He is not waking up, Elijah. It has been 5 days.”

Elijah shook his head and went to Klaus, placing his hand on Klaus’ shoulder. “Calm yourself, brother. He’ll come to soon. It may be from the shock and how worn out he was.” Elijah said, calming Klaus and offering him a glass of bourbon.

Klaus took the glass and down the brown amber liquid in one gulp, finding ease in Elijah’s words and the taste of heat in his throat but still felt helpless. “We should bring him to a witch.” He said, sitting down beside the thin boy that lay peacefully on the soft bed of the apartment they were hiding out in. Klaus found that he was drawn to the little boy, as though he was family. A long lost member of their family.

Elijah saw the protectiveness aura around Klaus, the same thing he saw at the Dursley’s house. He too felt something in him when he looked at the boy. “If you wish, brother.” Elijah ended the conversation, sliding his arm underneath the boy to pick him up. Before he could do any of that, Klaus growled, stopping Elijah’s action.

“I’ll carry him, you drive.” He stern, carrying the boy tight in his arms, leaving Elijah following behind.

Elijah clenched his jaw, annoyed at his brother’s reaction. He too wanted to be close with the boy. He rid himself of all the unwanted desires, it wasn’t like him to be this way. He opened the passenger’s door for Klaus to enter with the boy in his arms. He took one last look at the boy and closed the door, approaching to the other side and started the car, heading to the direction of their trusted witch.

Klaus rested the boy against his chest and placed his hand around the boy’s back. Klaus looked down at the boy, noticing a tear flowing from his eye. Klaus frowned, wiping the tear away with care.

Elijah watched him then back to the road. “He must be dreaming. His heart is pounding.”

Klaus wasn’t sure what to do. “We must hurry. That family must have did something to him. Fucking witches.” Klaus rubbed circles around the boy’s back, soothing the boy as Elijah accelerated.

 

 

 

“Where are you, slave! Come back here now!!” A male voice echoed around the boy.

It was pitch black and he couldn’t find the source of the sickening voice.

“You’re ours! You can’t run from us.”

The boy ran and ran until his little legs couldn’t take it anymore. He fell to his knees, teared cheeks and bruised limbs. He sobbed, covering his face as he pulled his bleeding knees to his chest. He cried out when leather whipped his bare back.

“Found you, you little shit!” The same fat man appeared behind him. “You can’t run away now.” The man smiled wickedly as he pulled the boy by his hair, dragging him into the dark abyss.

The boy could no longer fight. He was tired and weak. He knew he couldn’t win even if he ran, they would always find him. He let the cruel man drag him, feeling strands of hair being plucked off his roots.

 

 

 

“What do you mean he’s stuck in his mind?!” Klaus roared, tightening his hold around the witch’s neck.

The witch gasped for air, trying to explain but to no avail.

A hand placed on Klaus’ shoulder. “Brother, you didn’t let her explain further.” Elijah said, shaking Klaus’ shoulder when he didn’t let the witch go.

Klaus growled and released his hand, letting the witch fall to the ground clumsily.

The witch gasped, rubbing her neck. Klaus crouched down and sneered “Witch.”

The witch looked down, afraid for what would come to her.

“Look at me, witch” Klaus snapped.

The witch immediately complied and looked up into Klaus’ face.

Klaus smirked at the fear he created in the witch. “You will undo whatever spell there is from the boy. Or else hiding from the coven will be the least of your worry.” He stood menacingly, looking at the witch with real threat in his eyes.

The witch widen her eyes, swallowing dryly. She nodded continuously and ran to the boy’s side. The boy laid on the floor, candles around him and in the shape of a circle. The witch lit all of the candles with a wave of her hand. She turned to her side, turning the pages of her grimoire and stopped when she found what she was looking for. She looked back to the boy, hovering both of her hands on top of the boy and started chanting.

Klaus and Elijah came closer to the both of them, readying themselves if the witch double crossed them.

Minutes of chanting passed when the whole house shook, jars filled with weird herbs fell from the shelves, shattering when they hit the ground. Klaus shared a look with Elijah who was worried of their safety. Blood started to flow out of the witch’s nose. The spell was strong and she wasn’t strong enough. Then everything stopped as the witch slumped back, looking wide eyes at both Klaus and Elijah. She started to cry.

Klaus and Elijah frowned. Elijah was the one that went to aid the witch. “What’s wrong? What happened?” He asked, confused.

The witch sobbed ridiculously. “They-”, she sucked in a few breath before answering again. “They’re torturing the boy even after they’re dead.” She weep again.

Furious, Klaus launched to the witch. “What do you mean?!”

The witch didn’t care of what Klaus was doing. She was still crying, she never felt so much sorrow for the boy.

“Klaus, stop!” Elijah pulled Klaus away. “We must be patient.”

Klaus snarled at Elijah. “What patience? We don’t have time for this! The boy could die any minute now.”

Elijah clenched his jaw, finding truth in Klaus’ words. He looked back at the witch who was still crying as she grasped onto her gown until her knuckles were white. He cleared his throat. “Can you do anything to stop it?” He asked nicely.

The witch sobbed, lesser this time. She looked up towards Elijah with her tear filled eyes. “I can but I need help.” She looked down. “From you two.”

Klaus turned his head towards the witch and scoffed. “We know what you’re doing, witch.”

“No, you don’t know. I’m not trying to do anything. This is for the boy’s sake” The witch said.

Klaus and Elijah looked at each other. “How so?” Elijah asked, raising his brow.

The witch stood, dusting her gown as she wiped her face from the tears. “Look, I was clashed with the boy’s memories while I was in his head. Although, I wasn’t able to watched them all because they were… too much for me to handle.” She cleared her throat. “However, I did came across the last moments before he passed out. And I saw Klaus. If you two follow me into his mind, we could wake him up. Because from what I saw, he didn’t have anyone else other than those torturous beings. A kind familiar face would sparked something in him.”

Klaus scoffed. “You think I’m kind?”

The witch rolled her eyes. “That’s what the boy said before he passed out from you choking him.”

Klaus growled but stopped when he noticed something. “The boy said? You spoke to him?”

“No, I listened to his thoughts. His voice was like an angel.” The witch said, smiling when she recalled.

Klaus narrowed his eyes, feeling anger that she was the one who heard his boy’s voice first. He widen his eyes at the thought. ‘His boy?’

Elijah broke Klaus out of his thoughts. “Why am I involved as well?” Elijah asked.

“I don’t know but my ancestors suggested for you to come too.” The witch turned and picked up the fallen jars.

Elijah sighed, not finding logic in this situation but surrendered as he too wanted to be involved with the boy. Maybe he could find out something from the boy’s memories.

“When do we begin the ritual?” Klaus asked, anxious but didn’t show it.

“Now. The sooner the better. I don’t want the boy to be tortured any longer. We witches may share the same power, however, I can’t forgive them for what they did and still doing to the child.” She said, sweeping the floor, gathering the herbs into the dustpan.

Klaus and Elijah nodded, sitting themselves down beside the boy. Elijah on his left and Klaus on his right.

The witch smiled at their cooperation. She sat at her former spot, held her hands out for the Klaus and Elijah to hold. They grabbed her hands without complain. “Now I need you two to close your eyes and open your minds. Do not temper with his memories. When I signal you to interfere, you must be by the boy’s side and lead him into the light.” The witch said firmly.

Klaus frowned. “Light?”

“Yes, light. The light is the gateway to the real world. If he does not go into it, he’ll be stuck in their spell, never to wake again.” The witch finished.

Klaus understood. He looked at the boy lovingly before closing his eyes. Elijah did the same.

The witch started to chant, this time a different one. The house shook all around them as Klaus and Elijah’s felt as if they were being pulled.

 

The two men opened their eyes and looked around. They were back in the Dursley’s house. This time, everything was in place neatly.

“Slave!” A voice broke.

They turned and saw the little boy, a much younger one, hurrying himself to the lounge. His lips were bleeding and his shirt was ripped, showing his bruised collarbone.

They stood aside, watching the memory with anger and sympathy.

The disgusting man who was sitting with his legs up on a stool suddenly slapped the boy, causing the boy to fall, tearing the wound on his lips, blood spilling on the carpet. “You slow maggot!” The man spat.

Klaus and Elijah growled and moved forward but was stopped by the witch who suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “Do not interfere, both of you” She said, her eyes shiny from tears threatening to spill. They stayed firm in their tracks, breathing in and out slowly, teeth clenching.

“Pick up our plates and wash them. Now!” The man continued.

The little boy stood up quickly and gathered their plates, moving away to the kitchen. Then, the fat Dursley boy pulled out his leg, tripping the boy. The plates shattered all over the boy, cutting into his flesh. The fat boy laughed at him. Another slap came across the boy’s face.

“You little shit! You’re no use at all!” The woman said, placing her high heels into the boy, digging into his open wound.

The boy bit into his lower lips as the pain grew, not wanting to cry. The man stood and dragged the boy, pulling his hair to the back door. He threw the boy into the dirt, knocking him into the pots as he landed hard. “You’re sleeping here for the next 2 months. We hope you die, maggot!” The man spat before closing and locking the door.

The witch, Klaus and Elijah followed, each steps heavy. They couldn’t take it any longer. Tears trickled down the witch’s face as Klaus and Elijah’s face filled with anger. They watched the boy as he stood up shakily, grabbing onto the metal pole for support, smearing blood along it. The boy looked up into the night sky, breathing in the air and head towards a spot behind a bush. The others followed and were shocked to see a small dirt hill and some leaves. The boy sat and positioned his head on the dirt hill, collecting the leaves to cover his wounded body. Tears flowed out of the boy’s eyes as he stared into the sky. A groggy petite voice was heard around them. “Tweeker tweeker nitter star, tweeker tweeker nitter star.” It was the boy’s thoughts. The song went on and on until the boy slowly drifted away as everything went dark.

The witch let out a shaky breath and fell into her knees. “I’m glad they’re dead now. I hope they’re in hell.”

Elijah unclenched his hands, drawing blood as he opened them.

Klaus on the other hand was furious, his face was contorted as dark veins appeared underneath them, eyes flashing gold. “We should have tore them apart and burnt their bodies.” He said in anger.

“How many more memories must we pass before we reach the boy? I’m not sure if I can trust myself not to interfere, witch.” Elijah said sternly.

The witch stood and turned to Elijah. “I’m not controlling this so I don’t know. We just have to bear with what’s coming.”

Elijah sighed.

Klaus was now back to his normal face, walking past them and into another memory. Elijah and the witch followed.

They encountered many of the boy’s memories. They finally knew where the boy came from. He was left at the doorstep of the witch’s home when he was a baby. Left there by a cult which his parents were involved in before they died. The Dursley woman was the sister of the boy’s mother. How could she do that to the boy when he was blood related to her. The three of them were extremely angry to this particular memory where the boy was a baby and was left in the closet, only taking him out to change or drink. Not more than 5 ounces of milk a day. They watched in horror as the Dursley woman sellotaped the baby’s mouth, sick of hearing him cry. They almost launched themselves towards the woman. Once they realized what they were doing, they stopped. If they interfered, it would alter and damage the boy’s mind. So they stood aside, further away, sometimes closing their eyes to not watch the awful scenario. Many more memories came. Elijah caught a glimpse of Klaus wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He can’t hold it in himself. This was worst than Mikael and Klaus knew it. He couldn’t control his tears anymore as it slid down. The witch was crying, face soaked and nose red. She couldn’t care less of what they thought of her as she bellowed in her salty tears.

Just when they started to give in and interfere, they saw the boy, the same age as the boy they took. He was kneeling with his head down on the ground. In front of him were the Dursley, all three of them dressed in fancy clothing when the boy was bare chested with torn short baggy pants that was two times too big. They were watching the tele.

“This is it.” The witch said.

Klaus and Elijah turned to her, eyes angry.

“This is not a memory. That’s the real boy.” The witch said, looking at the both of them at her side. “You can go to him now.”

Klaus and Elijah nodded and without a second to waste, they moved closer to the boy. They saw blood on the boy’ back as though he was being whipped. Despite that, the both of them remained calm, not to scare the boy away as they knelt in front of them.

The boy didn’t looked up at them but they knew he knew they were there as his heart rate sped.

Klaus touched the boy’s shoulder, feeling how thin and cold he was.

The boy flinched at the contact.

“Hello.” Klaus said softly.

The boy still didn’t looked up.

Klaus looked at Elijah, not knowing what to do.

Elijah placed his hand on the boy’s other shoulder. “Child, look at us” Elijah said, unsure of what he just uttered.

The boy still didn’t looked up.

They didn’t know what to do. They looked at the direction of the witch, finding answers but she was nowhere to be found. They frowned and looked back to the boy.

Klaus sighed. He knew what to do now. He cleared his throat calmly and opened his mouth.

Elijah was shocked at the words coming out of Klaus’ mouth. He never expected him to sing. It had been long since he sang. So so long. Elijah looked at Klaus dearly. This boy is clearly affecting Klaus. He recognized Klaus as the same old little brother he had before they became monsters. Elijah started to sing as well, following Klaus’ rhythm.

 

**“Twinkle, twinkle, little star**

**How I wonder what you are**

**Up above the world so high**

**Like a diamond in the sky**

**Twinkle, twinkle little star**

**How I wonder what you are**

 

**When the blazing sun is gone**

**When he nothing shines upon**

**Then you show your little light**

**Twinkle, twinkle, all the night**

**Twinkle, twinkle, little star**

**How I wonder what you are”**

 

The boy sobbed, finally looking up.

Klaus and Elijah gasped when they saw the boy’s face. Cuts and bruises on every inch of his face. His left eye swollen like a bee sting, upper and lower lips torn and his nose was broken as blood dripped down onto the ground.

Klaus pulled him into his arms, comforting him with soothing words. “It’s alright, child. I’m here now. We’re here now. We won’t hurt you.”

The boy sobbed into Klaus’ shoulder, his arms laid weakly on Klaus’ sides.

Elijah moved closer to them, placing his arm on the boy’s back, rubbing it up and down.

Just then, Klaus and Elijah were blown to the side by an invisible force, knocking them on their backs.

The boy sprung up to help them but was caught by the fat man.

“Who are you?! What business do you have with my boy?!” The man yelled. The woman and fat boy came to him, pulling the boy away and knocking him to his knees.

The angered men quickly stood and sped to the fat man. Klaus dug his hand into his heart and clenched it. “He is not your boy!” Klaus snarled as he pulled his hand out, heart still beating in his palm. He squeezed the repulsive heart until it became minced meat.

Elijah took care of the other two. He tore the woman’s limbs and sliced the fat boy’s throat, leaving him headless.

Klaus and Elijah were finally satisfied. They then looked around for the boy. He was in the same position as before, head and knees down. Klaus moved to the boy and picked him up.

The boy stood with shaky legs, his eyes cast downwards.

“Look at me, love.” Klaus purred.

Elijah came closer, pulling the boy’s chin up.

The boy looked at them both, shifting from Klaus to Elijah.

They saw loneliness in his eyes. No fear or hatred. The boy never hated the Dursley. There were no sign of anything ill in his blue eyes. Not one bit. Klaus and Elijah were confused.

The boy pulled away and walked towards the bodies. He stared at the fat man that laid motionless on the ground and cried. “I’m alone now.” His thoughts were heard. “So alone.”

Klaus and Elijah sped to his side, Elijah pulled the boy’s face to faced him. “No no, you’re not alone. We’re here now. We’ll take care of you.”

The boy frowned and shook his head. “No, I don’t want. I’ll be a burden.” He pushed away.

“No, you won’t.” Klaus spoke.

The boy looked into Klaus’ eyes. “I don’t want to be a burden.” He whimpered.

“You won’t and you never will be a burden to us.” Klaus moved closer, caressing the boy’s hand.

The boy sobbed, feeling calm at the warm contact on his hand.

Just then, a bright light appeared slowly at the other end.

The boy’s eyes widen at the beautiful light.

“Come now, love. Let us take care of you from now on.” Elijah smiled and stood, holding his hand out for the boy to take.

Klaus smiled and did the same.

The boy stared at them, poker faced. His eyes started to water again as a new emotion appeared inside of him. He slowly reached out around Klaus’ and Elijah’s hands and was pulled up.

They smiled at the boy, feeling him trusting them fully. They walked to the light until they winched as it grew brighter and brighter until everything went white, swallowing them in warmth and bliss.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The little boy named Henry has grown up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for that long ass hiatus. I was busy writing my book and had little time to continue this fanfic. I'm really sorry ahaaa.. But this story is not dead, it is still continuing and i wish to finish it soon. Probably over 10 chapters because i hate making few ones ehehe. Anyway, enjoy chapter 3.

Both Klaus and Elijah gasped the moment they were out of their trance, noticing the smell of sage and lavender in the air around them. They quickly turned their heads towards the boy who still laid motionless on the wooden floor.

“Why isn’t he waking up?” Klaus asked the witch who was grounding herbs in an old granite mortar.

The witch shushed him, not afraid of Klaus anymore. “He is still weak”, she said as she turned around. She walked towards the boy and rubbed the grounded Calendula leaves and aloe vera gel onto his swelling wounds. “This will prevent infections”, she simply said before returning to her station. “I suggest you take him to the hospital, his body is in need of nutrition and proper care. I am but a doctor.”

“Thank you, Miss Hundst”, Elijah said to the witch. “For everything.”

The witch nodded in reply.

Klaus laid his eyes back onto the boy who was breathing calmly, noticing his eyelids no longer fluttered restlessly.

“Niklaus, may I have a word”, Elijah stood and went outside without waiting for Klaus’ reply, his question more like an order.

Klaus followed him outside, the cold air immediately touching his skin as soon as he stepped out of the cabin.

Elijah sighed before speaking. “I know we said we’ll take care of him but we can’t.”

Klaus frowned. “If you’re afraid of taking care of a child, then I’ll take him. You don’t nee-”

“Stop”, Elijah raised his hand to his head, massaging his throbbing temple. “He needs a normal life, Klaus. One without any supernatural beings inside. Without witches, werewolves and…us”, Elijah stared at him, hoping for Klaus to understand.

The look on Klaus’ face went from disbelief to realization then sad evident in his eyes. “You’re right. I’ll-”

“I’ve thought of putting him in an orphanage and recruiting preferable parents for him”, Elijah interrupted.

“When did you planned this?”

Elijah looked up in the night sky, thick grey clouds blocking the shimmering twinkling stars. “The moment he sang that song, I immediately wanted him to have a peaceful human life.”

Klaus sighed, his jaw clenched right after.

“I know it’s hard, brother. I’ve noticed you’ve taken a liking towards the boy..”, he paused. “I cannot deny that I have too but this is for the best”, Elijah placed his hand on Klaus’ shoulder, grasping it in a brotherly manner before pulling it back and going into the cabin.

Elijah left Klaus alone with his thoughts. He wanted the boy. Even after everything Elijah had just said, he couldn’t help but still want him. He felt guilty. Shaking his head, he rid the selfish thoughts and went back inside.

 

 

The two vampires spent the whole day tending to the boy’s wounds. They planned to bring him to the hospital first thing in the morning. The witch, Miss Hundst, had helped with allowing the boy to live without food with her magic, but only for a day. She pitied the ruthless hybrid most, how he stayed beside the boy whenever a small whimper was heard. Elijah was no better. He was always on the phone, calling every centre to find human parents that are eligible and worthy enough to take care of him. Cursing everytime the other line hung up.

“Rest, brother. We’ll take care of it in the morning, face to face”, Klaus smirks as he played with the boy’s hair, his head laid between Klaus’ underarm.

Elijah cursed yet another series of profanities from his lips after another ended his call. “Why do they think I’m __pranking__?!” His mouth twisted at the word.

Klaus hummed in thought, finding the scene amusing. “Maybe because you speak like an old man.”

“But I am an old man”, Elijah frowned.

“Exactly”, Klaus smiled.

Elijah narrowed his eyes at him, having enough. “Should I sound more like you or one of our siblings then?”, he mocked.

Klaus hummed again. “No harm in talking like me, or would you prefer Kol? Finn perhaps?”

Elijah scoffed. “Hell will freeze over, brother. I don’t want you shivering when you get there”, he remarked.

As soon as Elijah said that, they both stared, growling at each other before laughing their guts out.

Miss Hundst came in from the kitchen, shushing the two of them. “What’s the matter with you two? Have you forgotten we have a young boy sleeping on the bed?”

Klaus and Elijah seemed to have forgotten about him during their playful dispute.

Elijah apologized for the commotion while Klaus pulled the boy closer towards him, caressing his flushed cheeks.

“Should we give him a name?” Klaus suddenly asked.

Elijah raised an eyebrow. “He probably already has a name.”

“I’m sure he has, but for now, should we name him?”

Elijah tilted his head, his eyes observing Klaus who was gently touching the boy’s cheeks. “What name do you prefer?”

“How about… Henry?” Klaus said.

Elijah was taken aback by the name. ‘Could it be after our dead little brother?’, he thought.

Klaus seemed to have read Elijah’s mind when he said “No, it’s not. Henry simply sounds right.”

Elijah sighed. There’s no way it __just__  simply sounded right. “Alright, brother. We shall call him Henry.

“I think Henry’s a beautiful name”, Miss Hundst suddenly said from when she stood earlier.

Klaus smiled at her, nodding at her acknowledgement.

A thought suddenly came into Klaus’ head. “Will he remember?”, he asked the witch who looked clueless at his question. “The encounter in hi mind”

The witch saddened. “It depends on him, Klaus. It’s a 50/50 chance he might not remember anything, seeing he wasn’t strong.”

“It’s for the best”, Elijah said, moving towards Klaus. “If fate would like it, we’ll meet again”, he assured Klaus.

Klaus sighed, standing up to switch places with Elijah. “Fate is choosy towards us, brother” he only said before heading outside.

Miss Hundst’s eyes followed Klaus until he vanished outside the door. “Your brother is a sensitive man.”

“He sure is”, he replied, rubbing circles on Henry’s arm. ‘And it’s all because of this young boy’.

 

 

 

****10 years later** **

17 year old Henry Moore was a shy timid boy that kept everything to himself including the memories before he was adopted, the incident with the two men in particular. But no matter how hard he wanted to remember their faces, it would always comes out blurred. He remembered how caring and warm they were but couldn’t tell if it really happened. He sighed.

Looking in the mirror, he caressed his old wounds, feeling the bulged skin on his torso. He wondered the times in the backyard, how each night was a struggle, a test for survival. Did he succeeded, now that he could sleep peacefully with the most friendliest foster parents ever? He wondered if this was another test. ‘The calm before the storm’, a voice resonated in the back of his head. He shook it away. ‘No!’.

“Henry!” A female voice was heard from downstairs.

Henry jerked. He’d never gotten used to loud noises. Although, this one was a petite and soft voice but loud nonetheless.

“Henry! Come, breakfast is ready. Don’t be late, your dad’s sending you today. You know how he gets in the morning”, Henry’s mother snickered after, a yelp came after, evading a slap on the butt by her husband next to her.

Henry smiled. His parents must be playfully fighting downstairs. His sweet lovely parents, Jason and Constance Moore. Henry needed to repay them for caring for him throughout the years. He then dressed himself, putting on his backpack and ran downstairs.

“Good morning, mother”, Henry kissed his mother’s cheek, “and father”, kissing his father’s forehead.

“Jeez, call us mum and dad or papa and mama. You make us sound royal with those”, Constance pulled Henry’s cheeks. His father just grunted, acknowledging whatever name he was given and paying more attention to the newspaper in his hand.

“You are royal to me”, Henry said, smiling cheekily.

Constance smiled, letting go of his cheeks and pushing him down on the chair. “Eat before it gets cold”

Henry ate his breakfast, not used to the food that he chewed. The amount and the taste was too much for him to handle. After so many years, his stomach still only needed a bit. He took a bite of toast and poked the scramble eggs till the brim of his fork before eating it. That was all he needed. He pushed the plate lightly indicating he was done.

His father’s sudden voice shocked him, jerking his shoulders forward. “You need to eat, son. You need the energy”, he said, the newspaper tilting to look at his son.

Henry smiled adoringly towards his father. “I’m on a diet”

“What diet? You look thin already, honey”, his mother patted him on the back.

He jerked away from her hand, not wanting her to feel his scars from his thin shirt. He made a reminder to switch shirts and use a jacket before going to school.

The action made Constance saddened. “Henry, you don’t need to do that. I don’t care what’s underneath your shirt. WE don’t care because you are our son”, she placed her hand back on his shoulder.

Henry eased under her warm touch. “I know, mothe- mum. But I care”

Constance sighed and kissed his cheek, rubbing the lipstick off of it with her thumb. “Alright, son. But I want you to finish your plate, no exception”

“But-”

“No buts”, she headed to the sink and washed whatever left in it.

Henry sighed and downed the whole plate.

“Don’t forget your milk”, his father spoke from behind the paper.

Henry led out a playful sob before gulping his glass.

Jason then folded the newspaper and placed it on the table. “And now we go”, he said smirking.

Henry made a face with his full mouth towards his father, milk spilling on the side of his mouth.

His father walked away laughing.

He’ll sure vomit the food out sometime today but he’ll do anything to keep his parents from worrying.

 

Jason dropped Henry off after a father to son talk. It was the usual normal talk that Henry needed to get used to. As he was about to enter the school gate, a crowd of teens came jumping out of nowhere, probably waiting for him and his father to drive off.

“What’s up, orphan”, the top bully snickered at Henry who was on the floor, his books scattered in front of him. His followers laughed in the background.

Henry looked undisturbed. Somewhere deep inside him, he was glad there was someone to inflict pain on him, he kinda missed it. He collected his books and as he was about to reach the last book, the bully stomped his hand.

Henry flinched at the pain but didn’t made any noise, more like he felt that he wasn’t allowed to, like before. In fact, this was the first time the bully hurt him where his clothes can’t cover.

The bully frowned at him and pressed harder, needing a reaction from Henry.

Henry didn’t move nor did he showed any pain, just kept staring at the bully.

He scowled, twisting his shoe before pulling it away. “That’s what you get, freak! Let’s go ,boys. This drug addict’s no fun at all.”

Well, he looked thin but there’s no need to put him in the same category as a druggie. Henry simply sighed. He was left with a broken middle finger, the skin on his knuckles pealed and bruised. He smiled faintly but quickly picked up his books, looking around to see if he was seen smiling. ‘Seemed like everyone ran away when the bully came, huh’

 

He managed to hid his palm until lunch time. At the sound of the bell, he quickly rushed to the toilet, picking the cubicle at the end. He looked at the back of his hand for the first time since this morning, it was now oozing with pus. He tried to move his middle finger. Nothing. He rubbed his temple. At the thought of his parents, his eyes widened. ‘Oh no, what am I going to tell them?! Oh no oh no, they’ll sure worry and talk to the principal. No, I don’t want them to know. I don’t want them know. Fuck that bully! He’d always punched and kicked me where people can’t see, what’s different this time!’, Henry rambled in his mind. A tear slid down his eye. “I really don’t want them to know”, he mumbled, his other hand grasping his broken one.

Suddenly, he heard a crack then the sound of something wet stitching themselves back together. He frowned at the odd sound. ‘Eww, what’s that sound?’ He looked up, perking his ears. No sound. He sighed. ‘Well, this is the toilet so-’, his sentence hanging when he realized he could move his hand. The once broken hand was perfectly fine now. He looked at it like it wasn’t his own. “No”, he only said, rushing out of the toilet and getting back to his classroom, erasing everything that had just happened.

Few days passed since the incident, Henry never even wanted to remember the slightest bit of what had happened or even how, because deep down he knew. He just knew but he will never acknowledge it. Never in a million years.

It was night time and Henry and his parents were coming back from dinner at a restaurant, it was their monthly thing to do, to have a day off and eat out with each other. Constance was talking about the food they just ate and how her cooking was much better. Jason was nodding and commenting remarks about what she just said. Henry saw his mother hit Jason on the shoulder after a comment, pouting at his words. Henry smiled at the scene in front of him. He will forever treasure this moment. What he didn’t know was this was his last moment he would share with his parents when two bright lights shone in front of their car, coming closer to their lane. The only thing he heard and saw was the loud panicked screams of his mother and the swift turn of his father’s hand on the steering wheel as the other vehicle plummeted into them.

 

 

“Mum!” Henry woke up, the screams of his mother still evident in his head. The sudden burst hurt his neck, something spongy around it restricting his movement. He touched it and figured it was a neck brace. He then looked around at the unfamiliar room, the beeping and smell of the place, he finally knew where he was.

A nurse rushed inside with wide eyes and quickly ran somewhere calling for the doctor, her voice panicked.

Within seconds, the doctor appeared with the nurse following behind. Henry read the doctor’s nametag, Dr.Chen. He was an Asian doctor, very docile and tired for his age, dark circles under his eyes. Dr.Chen came closer and pulled out a flashlight. “Open your eyes and follow the light”, he said.

Henry complied.

After it was done, Henry spoke, his voice somewhat raspy. He cleared his throat. “Where’s my parents? What happened?”

The doctor ushered the nurse to give him a glass of water. The nurse pushed the straw towards his mouth as he drank.

After he was done drinking, the doctor shared a look with the nurse. He took a deep breath before speaking. “Henry, this is quite sudden so you need to take some rest first”, Dr.Chen said.

Henry frowned. He grabbed the doctor’s hand, not letting him go. “Where are they?”

The doctor sighed. “Julia, could you leave us?”

The nurse nodded. She went out and closed the door.

Dr.Chen pulled a chair closer to the bed to sit. “How are you feeling now, Henry?”

Henry felt tired of the stalling. He gripped the blanket. “Doctor”

Dr.Chen sighed once more. “Henry”, he paused “you and your parents were in an accident”

Henry closed his eyes, he knew from the doctor’s tone what had happened. He fought back the incoming tears. “Are they-” he sobbed.

“I’m sorry, son”, the doctor placed his hand on Henry’s hand. “They passed away at the scene. The driver that collided with your car ran away”.

Henry’s eyes moved away from the doctor, staring out the window, his tears trickling down, soaking the neck brace. He gripped onto the mattress, ridding his anger, his grief for parents stronger. “I-I want to see them”. He pulled his blanket away, struggling to get rid of it when he realized his legs wouldn’t budge. “My legs… Are they..?”, he looked at the doctor in panic.

“No no, they’re still there. They’re just in casts. Your legs were fractured in a few places but with proper care and therapy, you’ll be walking in no time”, he assured Henry who released a shaky breath. Henry laid back down. “Can I see them?”, he asked slowly.

Dr.Chen took Henry’s hand in his. “You can, Henry. I’ll have the nurse bring you”.

Henry smiled, gripping his hand, not hiding his tears as they slid out of his eyes. “Thank you”.

 

The next day, the nurse, Miss Julia, came in with a wheelchair. She smiled at Henry, nodding.

Henry nodded back. He wanted this. He wanted to see them. Pulling at his blanket, he urged his numb body off the bed, wincing at the pain in his neck.

Julia assisted him off the bed and to the wheelchair. She took the blanket that was on the bed and covered Henry with it.

“Thanks”, he said shyly.

She just smiled and began pushing the wheelchair out of the room, towards the morgue.

Henry’s heart was in his throat when they had arrived. He was scared that it was beginning to feel real. His parents were really gone.

The nurse talked to the person behind the counter. The conversation was short and the man ushered her inside. Julia nodded and pushed Henry in.

They stopped at number 12 and 13. The name ‘Moore’ was written under the numbers.

Henry’s heart sank as the man pulled them out of the boxes.

“Can-can I have a moment alone with them?” He shakily said.

“Sure thing, bud”, the man nodded before leaving. Julia placed her hand on Henry’s shoulder, then left, leaving Henry alone.

Henry sat there, his face numb as he just realized his tears were falling without him knowing. He looked towards his parents that were covered with sheets, wheeling the chair to move closer. He wanted to take the sheets off and look at them but a voice in his head told him not to. To just let him remember how they were before the accident, when they were healthy and warm.

The tears didn’t stop. His throat was hurting from forcing the whimpering to stay inside. He searched under the sheet for a hand. Shaking, he recognized it immediately. It was his mother’s. He slowly caressed the ring around her finger, her long slender fingers under his touch. He squeezed his eyes shut, putting his mother’s hand back and pushing away, his wheelchair skidding.

Reality hit him hard at that very moment. His parents were gone.

Henry covered his face with his hands, his nails digging into his scalp, pulling his hair after. He couldn’t take it any longer. Everywhere hurts for him. Everyone around him would die and leave him. He felt something inside him. It was hot and burning him from within. It wanted to be let out. He then finally screamed his heart out yet the shout he let out wasn’t his, he couldn’t recognized it but he couldn’t stop. It was like a dragon’s roar. One by one, the fluorescent lights hanging above burst, scattering its glasses everywhere as the doors to the other ice boxes slammed continuously. The tears that flowed from his eyes now stained blood, his eyes pitch black. His old scars bled, soaking his cotton clothes as the last of the bulb went out.

His roar subsided as he sat limp in his wheelchair, his body now experiencing a seizure. The rapid movement toppled the wheelchair, letting out a crash sound as it echoed. He convulsed against the cold floor, facing the entrance. A pair of scrub shoes came rushing in, pushing the door harshly. The door flapped and he saw Miss Julia on the other side, her mouth gaping like a fish out of water as she laid looking lifeless on the floor. Did I caused that?, Henry thought as his tears fell.

“Get the doctor!” was all he heard before darkness succumbed him.

 

 

Nobody could explained what had happened. Authorities said it was a faulty wire that caused the lights, others just said Henry was possessed. Rumours spread but after a week, it died down because nobody would believe in that crap. Plus, they were sympathetic towards Henry and they’d rather talk about the scandal that was going on between the staff members.

Henry didn’t talk to anyone, only the occasional nod and shaking of head., his food tray never finish, some days it was untouched. The nurses felt pity whenever they saw the trail of tears on his face every time they changed his IV.

The insurance company came and said that they would cover for his parents’ funeral, Henry simply nodded. He wanted his parents to be buried faster, not wanting them to stay in the freezer any longer. He agreed to do the funeral in 2 days time.

 

 

There was a different nurse aiding Henry to the funeral. Her name was Sandy and she didn’t like him calling her Miss Sandy. Just Sandy is fine, she would always scold him. Henry hoped Miss Julia was still alive and well but remembering back how she was on the floor, he couldn’t help but think the opposite. His disgusting powers caused that and he knew it. Oh how he wished he could get rid of it. He didn’t want to be like the Dursleys. Their powers was what made them cruel and now Henry was afraid he would end up the same. He promised to himself to find a way to get rid of this power. Henry felt it was his own right if he didn’t want it or not and nobody can stop him.

“We’re here”, the nurse said, tapping on Henry’s shoulder lightly.

Henry looked up, his eyes widen at the beautiful service and flower placement. He reminisced the time her mother picked some flowers from the garden. Her garden. She loved the garden and often spent time there, reading her favourite book with her glasses at the end of the nose, almost falling off. Henry’s dad would always pushed it back up until his mum was cross-eyed. Henry silently giggled at the memory but pain stabbed his heart when reality came crushing in again. They were really gone. They’re nothing but memories now. “They’re gone and I can’t make new ones with them”, he whispered under his shaky breathe. Sandy heard him and she squeezed his shoulder warmly.

 

 

The service was finally over. Henry should be thankful that the attendees were crying but wow, they were weeping like crazy. Some of them were neighbours, others were friends of his parents. They had no siblings and were both an only child. Henry had no friends so he couldn’t care less when he saw some classmates came, even the bullies. He knew they were forced to by their parents. Henry remained stoic when people around him took turns to say their condolences, the same look on their faces as they patted and kissed Henry on the forehead. He was tired of it. About half an hour later, the cemetery was finally empty, only he remained. He saw his nurse coming from the car and signalled her to leave him alone for awhile. The nurse understood and went back inside.

After a few minutes, a couple of men came with shovels and told him it was time to bury the coffins.

Henry nodded shakily, wheeling himself back a little for them to do their work. He watched them bury his dad’s coffin first then his mum’s until the ground was flat.

In a blink of an eye, the only thing he saw left was the flowers and his parents’ framed pictures. He moved towards the flowers and grabbed them, placing each bouquet on his parents’ graves. He then took the frames, hugging them tight in his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”, Henry kept repeating, his eyes shut, no more tears to weep.

Just then, a hand landed on his shoulder.

Henry hid his face, clearing his throat. “I’ll be with you in a minute, Sandy”.

“I’m sorry for your loss”, a masculine voice said.

Embarrassed, Henry looked away. “Urmm, you’re not Sandy”, he said, trying to clear the ball in his throat.

The man chuckled. “No, I am not”.

Henry’s shoulders relaxed when he heard the man’s laugh. It was somewhat comforting.

They shared a comfortable silence, until the man spoke again, his British accent evident in his voice. “Why were you sorry?”

Henry sighed, missing the silence yet something about his voice stroke him as familiar. “Because”, he simply said.

“Well that’s not a good answer”, the man playfully said.

Henry sighed. “Because I’m bad luck”, he continued.

The man frowned. “Who told you that?”

Henry started to wheel himself away. “Me. Because that’s what I am ”, he said waving at the stranger without looking at him.

“No, you’re not, love”, the man said.

Henry’s eyes widened and quickly turned around to see the man but he wasn’t there. He searched around but there was no one else at the cemetery. Frowning, he slowly wheeled himself towards the car, still wondering about the mysterious man and that one specific word that was familiar to him. 'Love?'


End file.
